After babysitting until after 1 am, I went home and followed my going-to-bed-routine, created not for OCD but in the interest of sleeping and the comfort of "normal." And slept late. But I did get up. Babysitting is key for two reasons. The first is that one of my tires died yesterday. The tire shop was able to stick a used one in its place, allowing me to postpone the inevitable purchase of new tires. The cost for this and the service was forty-some dollars (as opposed to almost four hundred dollars to put on the cheapest new tires). Incidentally, I also was asked to babysit last night, and I got paid $40. Yes, the similarity was evident to me, and I chalked it up to a miracle from God. So that was nice.
The other reason it is important is that it threw off my sleep schedule more than usual, which left me less "strong" than usual, which will matter in a few minutes.
I got up in time to get a package from the post office - a new table cloth - actually a cloth one, not the cheap vinal kind (that I still like also) - thank you, Aunt and Grandma! Otherwise, I probably would have slept past eleven in the morning. Then I went thrift store shopping, purchasing a family of elephants. Before you call me out on my great waste of money, let me assure you that they were small and cost less than a dollar fifty. And yes, that may have been a waste of my pennies, but oh, well. Then, I managed to get myself to go to this health fair thing they were having. Actually, I just told myself I'd drive past it and see how it looked, and I saw a car pulling in and pulled in myself. Congratulations, self, on attending a social event (full of people I didn't know, which in some ways makes it easier for me).
The health fair thing was a free offering to the community providing opportunities for medical check-ups (they included mental health visits!), education, food, and information. I attended a class on managing my money. The instructor was informative and nice, the classmates ranged from very nice to irritating. And I'm waffling between guilt-tripping myself for not taking the bus to work (i.e., the way to spend an hour riding instead of driving ten minutes and still adding a ten minute plus or minus walk to the whole thing), guilt-tripping myself for other ways I've spent my money that weren't absolutely necessary, and moving on to more helpful subjects. Going with the helpful subjects choice right now. After all, I have a great memory for guild-inducing actions, so I can always guilt-trip myself later. Currently, I can get more worry mileage worrying about whether or not to buy an electric burner so that I can brown meat and saute vegetables, etc. It might, you see, be a waste of money, and blah, blah, blah. Gotta love my brain.
Anyway, I finally escaped that class to go to one on greaving. Conveniently, though I was fifteen minutes late, no-one else chose to attend, so I got to talk one-on-one with the lady. She gave me a brief overview of the greif training stuff she does, and then let me just talk to her, since she was a counselor. So I continued my list of greater losses until I started crying (which didn't take much; the sadness was very close by, and, as I pointed out at the beginning, I was very tired). She was happy to hear that I already was seeing a counselor - after I started crying, she was happy to know that I was seeing my counselor next week. But she was also a momentary listening ear. Thank you, counselor lady. I mentioned that I had OCD - she wondered when that started for me. I still don't know why she wondered. Anyway, I said my OCD was better now, or it was in hiding. So was my depression, I said. They were both hiding, pretending I didn't have a mental illness. She said that my depression and OCD weren't doing a very good job of hiding (well, at least she meant the depression). I guess that is a bit hard to back up while one wipes tears from one's eyes. But who wouldn't cry on a lovely rainy Saturday when a kind person was listening and when one had stayed up very late the night before? I mean, isn't moderate depression "healthy", normal, and actually hardly any depression at all, at least in the context of severe depression? See, I'm guessing I really am still moderately depressed, even though I had convinced myself otherwise. But I can't know for sure, because the depression screening quiz could be innacurate, I could have taken it "wrong," and I still have enough OCD not to be sure about my depression level. Interestingly enough, my counselor didn't try to convince me that I wasn't moderately depressed; she suggested the "it's so much better than it was" explaination, too.
And the depression is so much better. After all, I did make it to the health fair. And I did make it through babysitting. And I'm not a helpless, hopeless blob. I have hope right now. So there!